


[say we’ll go slow but we never do]

by incoherenttruth



Series: psych0's robin party [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Damian Wayne is LOVED, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mistaken infidelity, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 19:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15647058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incoherenttruth/pseuds/incoherenttruth
Summary: “Experience... is simply the name we give our mistakes.” - Oscar Wilde





	[say we’ll go slow but we never do]

 

It would have been easier, if Damian could pinpoint exactly where they went wrong. This is where Jon would protest, because Damian’s egoistical mind means that there are no mistakes that he can make, only miscalculations, which really is the same thing, except - 

 

* * *

  
They had one date. One single date where Damian’s mouth was pressed to Jon who then licked him like an overeager puppy for a few glorious moments. Damian had yelped and shoved at Jon’s face, “Disgusting, Kent,” but then, he had laughed and been held close. And then soon after Damian got called for a undercover mission without even a by your leave. Timothy had apologized, but it was an exhausted sort of triumph that haunted Damian that when he crashed into Jon’s window, and saw him kissing one of the girls from school-

It seems overly dramatic in hindsight, but when Damian loses both his best friend and almost boyfriend at a single moment - he thinks that it feels a lot like that moment of dying. 

Overwhelming pain and then just a feeling of numbness.

* * *

He tries not to feel bad about running to the other side of the world, but there he goes. Talia would be disappointed, but he thinks Father would be proud. Father after all, was a master of anything resembling emotions.

Still, it’s childish relief he feels when the heavy thuds of boots echo in his lair. “Titus misses you.”

“Todd.”

“Gremlin.” Damian allows Jason to throw an arm over him in a squeeze. To his surprise, Jason afterwards starts stripping, even removing his boots. 

“I can offer you a great deal of a challenge than that flimsy looking robot.”

“The point is control.” He gestures at the metal humanoid figure that tilts its head. He has been careful enough but in a pique of anger he had cracked its jaw, right where he wanted to crack Jon’s. “Not that you would know, being the equivalent of a blunt hammer.” 

Jason hums, cracking his neck and making a show of stretching his arms. “Well don’t hold back.” 

There’s a certain joy that Damian feels when he spars with Jason. Among them, the only one that can truly offer any challenge is Cassandra who wins more than she loses. Richard doesn’t count, because all he’s interested in is smothering Damian in kisses and hugs. Even Father has had to ice his jaw with Damian on the rare occasion. Timothy opts out often, citing that he doesn’t want Damian to get a big head from winning, but to be honest, what he lacks in instincts, he makes up with sheer cunning. 

But Jason, Jason is league trained. His moves evoke a thrill from the nostalgia of what he used to call home, of the taste of oxblood soup, and the scent of incense. Damian is fast, and used to sparring with a super, but what Jon doesn’t have is tactics and that complemented by strength that he thinks can rival Father, makes Jason an worthy opponent on the mat.

Jason catches one of Damian’s roundhouse kicks and spins him to reduce the momentum. Damian lands on one leg, pivots and goes low only to aim for Jason’s chin. Laughing, Jason blocks it. 

They don’t talk, outside of taunts. When exhausted, Jason lies down next to Damian turning his head.

“I’m bad at this, so I’ll ask once. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” 

“Okay.” Rather than being offended by his curt reply, Jason simply looks relieved and shrugs. “Wanna go shoot something and make a big explosion?”

Damian, despite himself, feels his mouth twitch. “Big?”

“Real big. Newsworthy big. You can’t be Robin, but how about becoming a newest outlaw for a day? You can wear a red wig and call yourself Andronicus and wear laurels and a toga.” Jason grins at him, the same grin he has seen in videos Father watching furtively in some self flagellation. “Let’s take a video and send it to the other birds.”

“You’re delusional.” Damian rolls his eyes. “I will not wear a toga.” 

* * *

He doesn’t wear a toga, but when he gamely wears laurels, Jason nearly walks off a cliff laughing. Bizarro catches him in time.

Damian still thinks about Jon. 

* * *

Damian returns back to Gotham soon after.

The next of course, would be Timothy. Because he’s considerate, he makes a show out of sweeping into the main Wayne Office even though he’s been traveling the world and terrorizing Damian’s birthright into submission.

Damian folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “You could have just asked the clone to bring you.”

“Nah, this is a no super zone.” Timothy waves a dismissive hand, shedding the skin of Tim Drake to just become Timothy. “How’s my favourite Gremlin?”

“How many gremlins do you know?”

“Just the one, and I’m taking him out for lunch.” He shuts Damian’s laptop, where Damian was single handedly trashing  Richard at Cheese Viking. 

Damian clicks his tongue. “You have abysmal tastes Timothy, I would hardly entrust you to choose an adequate-“

“It’s overly priced fine dining cuisine by a white chef masquerading as fusion food with middle eastern influences. I just got off a twenty hour flight, I could do with some cheering up while you show me how to verbally flay a Michelin Star into viscera.”

“I thought it was me you were supposed to cheer up.”

“Did you need cheering up?” Timothy grins, because even though Richard is the dramatic one among them, it is Timothy who loves an over the top grandiose gesture. He tosses a chip onto the table and it activates with an interactive hologram. “I have your favourite, poachers operating just south of Gotham. They specialize in exotic breeds like armadillos. I was thinking we can just run this, and I’ll even let you lead.”

“TT. I am the obvious choice. You barely remember to feed yourself, I wouldn’t inflict you on the animals. What does Father have to say?”

Tim makes a show of stretching and it’s the blank look he wears that tells Damian everything he needs to know.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“He’ll probably tell me not to spoil my brother?” Tim asks, mockingly repentant. “It’s easier to ask for forgiveness rather than for permission?” 

“I’m not answering his calls.” Damian says, grabbing his coat. “You handle him.” 

* * *

In their defense, Damian didn’t know the bombs he liberated from Jason would have that much of a blast radius. Fine, he did. And maybe he shouldn’t have let Timothy goad him into using two. But at that moment where he lit the flame, he was reminded of how excited he was to return to Jon, and how Jon had probably heard his heartbeat and kissed her anyway.

His smile then and now, is a sad bitter aching thing.

Timothy doesn’t say anything, only pulled him up onto the Batplane. 

* * *

  
They get yelled at, but Timothy, with a conspiratorial wink, muted Damian’s office phone, and rewarded himself with stealing one of Damian’s fries. Damian retaliates by flicking tomato sauce onto his white shirt. That degenerate only dips his fry into it. 

Father, by some uncanny Bat knowledge, has switched to calling Damian’s iWayne messenger. It’s probably the CCTV that Damian has generously allowed, if only because if he doesn’t, it’ll probably result into a microchip embedded in his person. Damian ignores it. Timothy simply waves at the camera. 

“He’ll come in person you know.” Timothy says, conversationally. 

“Father barely has enough time for himself.”

“He’s worried. They all are.” Timothy continues, smearing the tomato sauce stain into a larger patch with an unfortunate fry. 

“How nice it is then, that he’ll have you to distract him.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Tim throws his fry to the floor and lunges for Damian’s phone, only to be thwarted by Damian’s stationary that flies across the table. “Damian!”

Damian doesn’t laugh, but he did smirk as he sends off his message to Alfred at the sight of Timothy’s defeated wail. “Time to return back to Wayne manor Drake.”

* * *

He should have told them not to, because of course they would.

“Hey there little D.” 

He hasn’t seen Richard in a year, not since he got assigned to play the spy again, and of course Richard, that sentimental fool would abandon his post because of Damian’s emotional inadequacy-

Damian doesn’t care. He throws himself at Richard who only distributes his weight a little. Damian has grown since they last met, but Richard, Richard stays the same, steady as a rock.

“I’m here,” Richard murmurs, as though Damian is still four feet tall.”I’m here.”

Over the course of the night, Richard draws the truth from Damian, in bits and pieces, like pulling out multiple teeth. Damian feels weary and exhausted as though he has run a whole night of patrol, and went a few rounds with Bane and is currently wearing off the last of Scarecrow’s fear toxins with none of the fulfilment. Richard said nothing, but he cracked the glass that he’s holding, spilling water all over Damian’s table. Damian had just stared at it, and somehow, that is what makes him about to cry.

“I always knew he wanted to be normal.” He confesses softly, not moving his gaze away from where Richard is holding his hand. He knows he sounds lost, like a child again. “To find his own Lois Lane. But he should have told me first. Why didn’t he tell me first?”

Richard squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry Damian.”

“The worst part is,” The water drips onto his sleep shorts. “The worst part is that, I lost my best friend too.” 

* * *

The next day, Jon crashes into Damian’s apartment, all trussed up like Alfred’s turkey during Thanksgiving dinner. There’s even a decorative garnish on his head. On his window, Jason and Timothy are grinning like proud cats presenting a particularly noisy prey to Damian. Jon is screaming into a gag, flopping around like a live trout.

“Well that’s my cue to go.” Richard says, yawning and ruffling Damian’s hair. “And please talk to him. Listen to what he has to say, you don’t have to forgive him, and you can call us to bring him home later, but I think, both of you have a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” Damian wants to yell. “A misunderstanding?”

“We had to tranq his ass with kryptonite. It’s synthetic though, Bizarro made it, when he was Brainzarro.” Jason rips the gag off Jon’s mouth roughly. “He’ll be a little wonky. It makes supers a little out of it. Object permanence might be a problem.” 

They leave him. Jon is drooling into the carpet, and when Damian toes him to turn him around, it’s naked adoration stark on his face that causes Damian to jerk his head away. Jon frowns, as though trying to recall something, before he starts to tear up.

“Why didn’t you answer me Dami? You were away for two weeks, and you just disappeared.” Jon has the audacity to sound upset. “I got the hint, but Jason and Timothy insists you-“

“Who was she?” Damian asks, and it’s a struggle to keep his voice even. “What was her name? You could have told me.” He inhales, because he might do something stupid like denting his pot on Jon’s head.

“What girl” Jon looks befuddled, before realisation dawns. “Oh my god? You were there?” He squeaks. “No wonder you-“

“Don’t patronise me with your feigned stupidity,” Damian snarls, abandoning his attempt at appearing impassive. “I was there while you were sticking your tongue-“

“Earplugs! I was wearing earplugs!”

“What?”

“I paid one hundred dollars for kissing lessons,” Jon says, desperately. He’s making a mess with his tears and snot now. “You said our kiss was disgusting, so I thought you wanted me to practice, but it’s not the same with a mirror and so I paid someone to make me better and then I couldn’t concentrate because it wasn’t your heartbeat and I felt like I was about to puke so I wore earplugs and then not hearing your heartbeat gave me a panic attack so she had to press ice down my back-“

“You didn’t hear me?”

“Damian,” Jon’s eyes are so blue. “I’m always tuned to your heartbeat.” 

Damian growls, because he’s still hurt, but it sounds just like something idiotic that Jon would do. He crosses his arms and glares. “Stay here.” 

He has to shut himself in his room to think.

Outside, Jon has started to cry noisily. “Damian, where are you…? I’m sorry for the lessons, it was the only way I thought I could get better. I’m sorry… please come back…. I miss you… i won’t kiss you again…”

Oh right. Object permanence. 

He flings open the door. “Cease that unnecessary prattling.”

Jon brightens up, wriggling around like an earthworm. “Damian you’re here!”

He bends down, and the blood is rushing to his head, which is the reason why he’s blushing. “One question. Jon, do you-“

“I LOVE YOU!” Jon yells, startling Damian backwards. “Yes I will marry you.”

“Oh god,” Jason says, from the window. “This is not what I expected.”

“Damian proposed?” Richard grins soppily. “I want to plan the wedding.

“Congratulations gremlin.” Timothy deadpans. “You move fast.”

Damian throws his hands up in the air. “I need to leave.”

Jon has flopped onto his back, which means that Damian is out of his sight, and his tears have started again. “Damian… Damian’s been ignoring me… I have to stay away… I just want to see him…”

“Remove him,” Damian tries to say imperiously, folding his arms and trying to recover his dignity. But still a sort of bubbling joy like the rich taste of champagne lifts the side of his mouth. “Tell him, I’ll call him later.” 

Jon smiles at him, and Damian thinks that he might have smiled back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Of course Jason and Tim laughed for days.


End file.
